Article originally published August 24, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson revisits the beloved College Street venue that lit the fuse for Toronto’s post-millennial indie-rock explosion.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Ted’s Wrecking Yard & Barcode, 549 College St.

Years in operation: 1997-2001

History: Ted Footman was no stranger to the stretch of College west of Bathurst when he set out to open second-floor venue Ted’s Wrecking Yard, with Barcode below it. Footman lived in the area, and had opened the nearby College Street Bar in the early 1990s. After splitting from his partner in that venture, Footman opened rock-bar hangout Ted’s Collision and Body Repair at 573 College in 1994. (It became known as simply Collision after Footman sold it.)

“Ted’s Collision was a bit of a shock for the neighbourhood,” Footman chuckles during a recent phone chat. “It was all supposed to be pasta and jazz, and all very quiet.”

For many of us living in the area—I rented on Brunswick, just north of College, for 17 years—Ted’s Collision was a welcome addition to the neighbourhood. What it wasn’t, despite Footman’s attempts, was a live-music venue. A 1995 City amendment to the area’s zoning by-law, ushered in by then-City Councillor Joe Pantalone, limited the size and “entertainment-type uses” of restaurants and lounges on College between Bathurst to Ossington, thus dashing Footman’s hopes of expanding Ted’s Collision to two floors.

Instead, Footman turned his attention to a two-floor spot at 549 College. Once home to a series of less-than-busy bars, the location had stood empty for some time.

“It was existing and licensed as a banquet hall, which meant it came with a liquor licence, so we were able to get around the new bylaw,” says Footman. “I thought, ‘Good—I’ll just take this existing place and do a much better live-music venue.’”

Ted’s Wrecking Yard and Barcode opened in July of 1997, with customers welcomed on both floors seven nights a week. Legal capacity was in the area of 200 people per floor. Of the name, Footman says: “Basically, if you can’t fix it over at Ted’s Collision, you go over to Wrecking Yard.

Ted’s Wrecking Yard matchbook cover. Courtesy of Ted Footman.

“Upstairs, Ted’s—as it said on the front door—was home of ‘Both kinds of music,’” Footman explains. “You could read that as ‘country and western’ or as ‘country and classical.’ Ted’s was the dark room, with loud rock ‘n’ roll and country, while Barcode downstairs was more of a terrazzo, a nice bright room—we did some classical shows that were really great. We once did Beethoven’s Fifth Concerto in the [adjacent] parking lot, but the rehearsals in the room were the most amazing thing.”

The brighter Barcode was a good spot to go read, grab a coffee, and generally hang out. The room, complete with a grand piano and round metal stage at the back, was filled with mismatched furniture and reclaimed materials before that became a codified College Street look.

A steep set of stairs took you up to Ted’s Wrecking Yard, a rectangular room painted black, with tire-track prints, rarely functioning toilets, a wooden floor, and a long bar running down one side. A set of couches looked out onto College while, at the south end of the room, behind a sizable stage, was a rarely used kitchen that acted mainly as the bands’ green room and impromptu jam space.

Footman had occasional run-ins with the city, especially as he was partly licensed as a restaurant, but didn’t often sell food.

“I tried with a French chef and had lobster and steak, but nobody trusted in it,” he says. “That didn’t work, so all we ended up with was a nut machine.

“I’d put bloody tables and chairs on the stage when I knew the City inspector was coming. He was pretty good; it was the City councillor who was trying to shut me down.”

The Barcode Stage. Photo courtesy of Ted Footman.

Why it was important: Footman’s fiery personality, coupled with his aesthetic and preference for live music rather than DJs, made Ted’s and Barcode stand out on the strip. The rooms became magnets for the many musicians, artists, and lovers of indie culture who’d moved to the area. Art was hung, super-8 film festivals took place, and readings were held.

“Ted’s was fresh; there was an innate excitement about the rough-and-tumble aesthetic that related to—or was even out front of—what was beginning to happen culturally and artistically in town,” says musician Jason Collett, who performed there in many contexts, and hosted his Radio Mondays songwriters’ showcase events there.

“Historically, Toronto has such conservative roots,” Collett adds. “Ted’s stuck its neck out and shook off some of that past. I think that resonated in the music scene and beyond.”

Upstairs, Ted’s featured live music seven nights per week. Sound was so-so (“we had an old CNE PA in there, so it was a bit rough,” Footman says), but the bookings were spirited. The club’s first booker was Paul Laventhol, former guitarist for British psychobilly band King Kurt who’d relocated to Toronto and next played in The Texas Dirt Fuckers. Both bands played at Ted’s, as did a bunch of rockin’ roots-based acts, including The Backstabbers, who hosted Dodgy Mountain Music Mayhem on Thursdays for a stretch.

Downstairs at Barcode, live music could be found a few nights each week, with Footman’s beloved classical concerts eventually giving way to Terry Wilkins’ and The Swing Gang’s Wednesday weekly, and a Thursday residency held down by Lori Yates’ band Hey Stella.

Hey Stella (with guest vocalist Holly Cole). Photo courtesy of Ted Footman.

The attention paid to Ted’s Wrecking Yard and Barcode picked up a great deal after Footman hired well-respected talent booker Yvonne Matsell in 1998, and gave her free rein.

“Ted’s Wrecking Yard was limping along as a local music bar [at the time],” recalls Matsell, who’d finished stints of booking for clubs including the Horseshoe Tavern, The Ultrasound, and Reverb.

“I didn’t have to conform to any musical genres, which gave me the ability to discover new talent and work with them, to build up an audience and gradually fill up the room.”

That she did. At a time when there weren’t a lot of quality venues prioritizing local indie acts, Matsell upgraded the sound system, took advantage of the room’s great stage and sightlines, and turned Ted’s into a showcase spot nurturing Toronto talent.

“Ted’s arrived just as the Toronto Renaissance did, and was the perfect mid-size room that the city needed,” enthuses Collett. “Ted was a real character and his bars reflected that, and with long-time booker Yvonne—the biggest sweetheart of a matron you could ever meet—they were a great team.”

Ted’s Wrecking Yard quickly became an indie haven. Acts like Collett, Feist, and Broken Social Scene—a band in which they were both members—played plenty in their early years.

“I love discovering new indie bands and helping them to climb the ladder, so that became a focus,” says Matsell. “Some other discoveries were Kathleen Edwards, The Weakerthans, The New Deal, Metric, Andy Stochansky, and Sarah Slean—all early in their careers. I was able to book bands there that created a really vibrant, thriving musical scene—a musical community, which is really important to stimulate creative juices in other new bands.”

Ted’s did help foster a culture of collaboration by providing a consistent place to play. Most influential local labels—like Teenage USA, Three Gut, Paper Bag, Blocks Recording Club, and Broken Social Scene’s Arts & Crafts—started up after Ted’s did, and most of their core acts graced that stage.

“For Broken Social Scene in the early days, it really felt like Ted’s was our venue, our scene,” says BSS co-founder Brendan Canning. “Looking back, it was important to feel some kind of ownership and be comfortable in a space where you were throwing a party for your friends. Like, ‘This is where we do what we do.’”

Canning estimates that BSS, in various incarnations, played seven or eight shows at Ted’s between 2000 and 2001.

“BSS once opened up a Ted’s show with a song called ‘The Stuck,’ which had such a long outro at the time, so the song probably went well over 10 or 12 minutes. Then we took a twenty-minute break. We all enjoyed that gag—Kevin [Drew’s] idea of course—an awful lot.

“Ted’s was also the first place where the Big Band all got together,” recalls Canning, who’s now busy with his recently revived Cookie Duster project and is writing the score to Paul Schrader’s film, The Canyons, starring Lindsay Lohan. “I can remember being choirmaster during the quiet moments of ‘It’s All Gonna Break‘ and thinking, this is really so much fun.”

“The Broken Social Scene shows were great,” enthuses Footman. “One night, Feist played downstairs with Peaches, and there must have been 20 people on the stage. It was so good; it went to three or four in the morning. I just locked the door, kept throwing beer at the band, and they kept playing.”

Broken Social Scene, in fact, played a number of their earliest shows as part of Wavelength, a genre-defying Sunday night showcase of underground music that launched at Ted’s Wrecking Yard on February 13, 2000 and ran there until October 21, 2001.

Inspired by nights like Sedated Sundays at the El Mocambo, ° (a.k.a. “Degrees”) at the Lion Club, and William New’s long-running Elvis Mondays, Wavelength was founded by a collective that included co-programmers and ‘zine co-editors Jonathan Bunce (a.k.a. Jonny Dovercourt) and Derek Westerholm (a.k.a. Paddy O’Donnell), fellow programmer Minesh Mandoda, Duncan MacDonell (a.k.a. emcee Doc Pickles), and a host of ‘zine contributors.

“The aim of Wavelength was to foster excitement around the local Toronto music scene, which at the time was pretty under-loved,” begins Bunce, who then also played in bands including Kid Sniper, Christiana, and Currently In These United States.

“This was pre-BSS, so there had really been no breakout successes from the local scene to put the city on the international music map. Though bands like The Deadly Snakes, Danko Jones, and Do Make Say Think were bubbling under, a lot of people still associated Toronto indie music with ‘wacky’ bands like Barenaked Ladies and Moxy Fruvous, or rootsier fare like the Lowest of the Low and Blue Rodeo. Most people with edgier, noisier, or more experimental musical tastes still glamourized bands from the U.S. and U.K.”

Each Sunday at Ted’s, Wavelength featured two live bands and a related scenester DJ who shared sounds ranging from noise-rock and free-jazz to indie-pop, shoegaze, math-rock and experimental electronic.

Mean Red Spiders backstage at Ted’s. Photo courtesy of Wavelength.

Peruse Wavelength’s archive of early shows, and you’ll find band names like Do Make Say Think, Constantines, The Fembots, GUH, Manitoba (now Caribou), Russian Futurists, Mean Red Spiders, Picastro, Deep Dark United, and The Hidden Cameras.

“I was stocking the fridge before that Hidden Cameras show and saw a tall, nerdy looking guy [band leader Joel Gibb] cutting holes into white sheets,” recalls then bartender Stephanie Comilang.

“I asked if he needed help, and he said, ‘Sure.’ Later into the night, the band performed with these ghost costumes singing about golden showers and banning marriage. It was the best.”

Now a filmmaker living in Berlin, Comilang also occasionally did projections, including for Final Fantasy and the Singing Saw Shadow Show, on Sundays.

“Working Wavelength was really interesting,” she says. “I sort of blindly entered into a pretty small, but established DIY music community. Jonny Dovercourt and the Wavelength people fostered an environment that wasn’t known yet outside Toronto, or for that matter Canada. It’s where I saw Peaches doing Peaches, with dildos, rapping about nastiness, and not giving a shit that the room was empty. It’s where I came to know what the Toronto indie-music scene was.”

Two other favourite moments for Bunce: “Michael Snow playing in a trio with John Oswald and Eric Chenaux, and also screening his 1967 classic experimental film Wavelength. And Vancouver’s Dan Bejar playing solo at his first Toronto show, under the name Destroyer.

Adds Bunce: “Ted’s and Wavelength felt like the start of a new music movement on College, one that was unabashedly nerdy and eager to share.”

Ted’s Wrecking Yard helped establish an audience for other indie ventures in the neighbourhood. Soundscapes—the record store across the street opened by Greg Davis in 1999—had a Ted’s section, for example, while the originally tiny Big Chill served ice cream largely to big kids late into the night.

Ted’s became both a clubhouse for musicians (says Matsell: “The Blue Rodeo guys seemed to look at Ted’s as a second home—Bazil Donovan and Bob Egan would get their bus to drop them off at the venue when they got back from a tour”) and a key venue for bands to be seen and potentially signed.

Radio Monday poster courtesy of Jason Collett.

Who else played/worked there: “Now, all the bands that were playing there are on the CBC all the time,” says Footman. “It’s kind of nice to hear, but when Yvonne first started booking them, bands would be in for weeks in a row. There’s be nobody there, then 10 people, then 15, a hundred, and then 300.”

A condensed list of folks who joined Jason Collett at his Radio Monday showcases further confirms Footman’s CBC statement: Jian Ghomeshi, Kurt Swinghammer, Andrew Cash, Luke Doucet, Hayden, Jose Contreras, Kathleen Edwards, Carolyn Mark, and future Dragonette frontwoman Martina Sorbara are just some of the songwriters booked in by Collett after he launched the series in April, 2001.

“Radio Monday was about putting five or so musicians in a half circle on stage, sharing songs and stories, and being purposefully informal so that we could approach a kind of domestic intimacy in a club,” explains Collett.

“The series served a unique social function for a burgeoning community of musicians interested in getting a closer look at what their peers were working on.” (Collett now produces the similarly minded Basement Revue series at The Dakota Tavern, and will release his fifth solo album, Reckon, Sept. 25 on Arts & Crafts.)

Ted’s grew to be such a popular spot that established bands were happy to do multi-night residencies. Rheostatics played a number of such stints between 1999 and 2001.

“The biggest plus was that Ted’s was close to everyone’s homes,” says band co-founder Dave Bidini, whose parents grew up in Little Italy. “It was also upstairs, and upstairs clubs kinda rule, with music pouring into the streets. Footman was always loopy and easy to be around, and we could play pretty much as late and as long as we wanted. Some nights we didn’t stop till 3 a.m.”

The author and now leader of BidiniBand recalls, “Drummer Don Kerr’s last show with us was at the end of one of those runs. The Weakerthans had opened all seven shows, and, on the last night, we played for so long and were so loud and intense that we destroyed the sound system. Ted had to cancel a week of shows. We felt bad for that, in a way, but we were also sort of emboldened to have destroyed all that equipment. Also, crowds drank the bar dry pretty much every night and I know Ted really had to scramble and call in favours to keep it wet throughout the week.”

Yvonne Matsell also carries a number of Ted’s Wrecking Yard moments close to her heart.

“The Sadies’ New Years Eve shows were always brilliant fun,” she begins. “Richard Ashcroft of The Verve did his first solo showcase performance outside of the U.K. at Ted’s [in May 2000], with music press flying in from everywhere to cover the show. Richard was a major rock star at the time, but he was very down-to-earth.

“Sum 41, then very young, did a six-week residency of Tuesdays that went from a half-dozen attendees to packed-out nights. A&R men from the U.S. flew in to see and eventually sign them.

“I also remember a shy 15-year-old called Avril Lavigne being brought in by her then-managers to say, ‘Hello.’ She didn’t think I was very funny when I told her she couldn’t drink.”

As for other key staff at Ted’s and Barcode, bartenders included future weewerk label-head Phil Klygo, then just launching his Teenage USA Recordings imprint, and Kaili Glennon, now in country band The Pining. In-house sound techs Les Charbonne and Mark Finkelstein are mentioned fondly by Brendan Canning and others.

549 College became an LCBO location in December 2011.

What happened to it: Ted’s Wrecking Yard and Barcode were closed Oct. 24, 2001. On a related tip, the nearby El Mocambo had recently been sold to Abbas Jahangiri and it was believed he would convert that legendary Spadina club into a dance studio. As is documented in a number of articles from that time (including here and here), former El Mo booker Dan Burke had made contact with the leaseholder of 549 College, with plans to open “The El Mocambo on College.” When Footman was late on rent, chains were put on the club’s doors.

“Originally, they were going to do an El Mo room downstairs, and I was going to keep upstairs, but it didn’t work out like that,” shares Footman. “I was getting a bit older, so staying out till three or four in the morning probably wasn’t the best. It was an okay time to get back into architecture so, really, I wasn’t that bitter.”

In a twist of fate, Burke encountered resistance from the City and was never able to obtain a liquor licence with a permit to present live entertainment at that address. The El Mocambo, of course, remained a club in its original Spadina location; Yvonne Matsell has been its booker for the last decade.

Footman now runs his own architectural practice, doing “everything from heritage work to really modern projects.” He’s worked on libraries and houses, but has also left his stamp on more than a dozen restaurants and clubs, including The Social, 3-Speed, Reposado, and Woodlot. He ran for City council in 2010, but has no plans to run again. “This ward seems well taken care of with Mike Layton.”

549 College remained vacant for 10 years. Plans to convert it into boutique hotel Inn On College were never fully realized. It opened as an LCBO last December.

“Ted’s will always be the spiritual home of Wavelength,” says Jonathan Bunce, the Founding Director who helped lead the series to Lee’s Palace, then Sneaky Dee’s, and now into its current capacity as a more selective, site-specific, concert-promotion organization, hosting events like the recent ALL CAPS! Island Festival.

“I always felt a little glum when I passed by the building, and felt a strange satisfaction in it remaining vacant for the better part of a decade,” says Bunce. “In some ways, I’m glad that it became an LCBO; 549 College is still providing good cheer for the neighbourhood.”

Thank you to Brendan Canning, Dave Bidini, Jason Collett, Jonathan Bunce, Stephanie Comilang, Ted Footman, and Yvonne Matsell, as well as to Darrin Cappe (Rheostatics archivist), Heidi Krohnert and Kieran Roy at Arts & Crafts, and Stuart Berman.

The post Then & Now: Ted’s Wrecking Yard appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published August 10, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

The legendary Spadina venue has just been sold for a reported $3 million, with its new owners promising to return the club to its late-‘70s glory days. But in this edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson looks back at the people and parties that kept this Toronto landmark alive during its leanest years.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The El Mocambo Tavern, 464 Spadina Ave.

Years in operation: 1946-present. Here, I focus specifically on the era spanning 1989-2001.

History: Arguably Toronto’s most illustrious live music venue, Spadina’s historic El Mocambo Tavern has meant many things to many people over the past 66 years: soul and blues hub, revered rock and roots venue, queer-punk hotbed. The building itself is said to date back to 1850, and to have acted as a haven for escaped slaves in a part of the city that was long home to a sizable African-Canadian community.

The El Mocambo, complete with infamous palm-tree sign, opened in the 1940s as a two-floor live music venue, and was granted one of Toronto’s earliest liquor licences. While it’s never been fancy, the El Mo boasts an incredible rock, soul, jazz, and blues pedigree. Charles Mingus, Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, The Guess Who, Elvis Costello, Lou Reed, U2, Blondie, and The Ramones all played there, as did a certain British band that performed two nights under the pseudonym of The Cockroaches.

“The Rolling Stones’ shows in 1977 put The El Mocambo on the ‘world stage,’” says longtime local music booker Enzo Petrungaro, who co-owned the venue from 1989 to 1992.

“It was probably the most talked-about club in the world during the days that followed, not only because of the scandals—the Prime Minister’s newly separated wife seen running around with the band, and Keith Richards’ subsequent bust at the hotel—but it was the first time in many years that The Stones played such an intimate venue. And they were stellar performances!”

Stones fans know that the shows resulted in side three of the band’s Love You Live album. In the years that followed, the El Mo was at times considered a coveted, A-list club and, at other points, a shoddy spot to be avoided—a perception largely contingent on who owned it at the time.

Look past the club’s “glory years” of 1972 through the mid-’80s—when owners Michael Baird and Tom Kristenbrun worked mainly with in-house booker David Bluestein—and you’ll find a long list of subsequent owners and operators, some lasting less than a year.

In light of the recent sale of both the El Mocambo Tavern’s building and business to Sam Grosso (owner of Cadillac Lounge) and Marco Petrucci (of 99 Sudbury), we examine a crucial turning point in the club’s history: the period of 1989 through 2001.

These transformative, albeit tumultuous, 12 years begin with the El Mo’s purchase by Petrungaro and end with its sale to Abbas Jahangiri. In between, there were successful stretches, many colourful characters, and a number of sudden closures.

Why 1989-2001 were important years at The El Mocambo: Encouraged by earlier El Mo owner Shaun Pilot, Enzo Petrungaro and a silent partner bought into the business at a point when the crowds weren’t coming. They began with widespread renovations.

“We immediately moved the stage [from the east side] back to the middle of the room upstairs, then gutted and rebuilt the dressing rooms, washrooms, kitchen and offices,” recalls Petrungaro. “We tore down and rebuilt all the bars, complete with new draft lines and pumps, installed new flooring, central air conditioning, exposed all of the bricks, and thoroughly cleaned and painted the entire space.

“We also built the staircase to the second floor at the back because the original one was condemned. This is where the bands would load-in their equipment. The renovations were extensive, expensive, and very necessary. Once we opened, the music was all that mattered.”

As a talent booker, Petrungaro didn’t limit the El Mocambo to specific sounds. He credits Pilot and industry veteran Joe Bamford with helping to fill the calendar in his early days, with local promoters and bands soon taking interest.

“We installed a great-sounding PA system upstairs, and a similar, scaled-down version for the ground floor. In spite of all the challenges and complaints with the building—the load-ins were a struggle, there were too many stairs to get to a dressing room with no private washroom, and you had to walk through the crowd to get to the stage—artists still loved performing there. The stage sounded great, the room sounded great, and the seating virtually enveloped the stage, creating a very unique and intimate experience not only for fans, but also for the artists.”

Petrungaro booked a number of respected artists in for weekly residencies, with acts like Danny Marks, Paul James, and Jack de Keyzer repping on the rock and blues front, while the-then-unknown Barenaked Ladies hosted their Barenaked Circus. Popular Front would also transform into The Lowest of the Low during their El Mo run. Arlene Bishop, Ron Sexsmith, Johnny Lovesin, and Alix Anthony all hosted residencies too, and an all-ages Saturday matinee-cum-jamboree with Melody Ranch proved popular.

This three-year period could be thought of as a second set of “glory days,” as Petrungaro and his partner made a viable go of it. Back then, up ‘n’ comers like Amanda Marshall, The Holly Cole Trio, Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, and Leslie Spit Treeo were booked regularly, alongside touring acts that ranged from blues/soul artists Rory Gallagher and James Cotton to folkies Fairport Convention and Sylvia Tyson, from alt-rockers The Feelies and Dead Milkmen to iconic industrial act KMFDM.

Sean D’Andrade with Buddy Guy (right) at the El Mo, circa 1992. Photo courtesy of D’Andrade.

Petrungaro has a number of El Mocambo shows from this era that he still considers personal favourites, among them “Pere Ubu; Buddy Guy, because afterwards he said it was one of his favourite stages to play in the world; Dr. John, because my late brother Sam was a huge fan and got to meet him and walk him to the stage; and Gonzalo Rubalcaba with Charlie Haden and Jack DeJohnette, because it was a super show from an extreme super-group. The Tom Robinson Band put on a great show, but it was also memorable because Rob Halford came in after his Judas Priest show at Maple Leaf Gardens and sat to watch from my table.”

Although they raised The El Mocambo’s profile and popularity, Petrungaro and his partner handed over the keys in 1992 when the building’s landlord requested a big rent increase. Petrungaro went on to book The Opera House for five years and has been the General Manager and booker at The Phoenix since 1997.

“In my opinion, Enzo and [his partner] were the last ‘great’ owners of the venue—it’s been a free-for-all since they closed,” states local concert-industry veteran Jeff Cohen. Cohen himself worked as an El Mo booker twice before going on to co-own Horseshoe Tavern, Lee’s Palace, Collective Concerts, and other businesses.

“When I was hired by Tom, the next owner [Editor's note: not to be confused with Tom Kristenbrun], in 1993 or so, my interest was to revive the venue to where they’d had it,” Cohen says. “I got the best of the local alterna-bands, like The Rheostatics, Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, The Waltons, and Furnaceface to play there weekends, and filled the mid-week with touring blues and roots music acts. On the first floor, we went no-cover and developed local acts like Headstones, Days of You, and The Mahones.

“I had the venue rocking during my first tenure as the talent buyer but, after two years, Tom fired me, saying he felt he could book it as well as me. Eight months later, the club went bankrupt.”

Cohen did another stint of booking for a new set of owners at The El Mocambo in 1996, but remained for less than a year before heading to the Horseshoe.

Musician William New also worked to keep the El Mo afloat during the turmoil of the mid-1990s. The Groovy Religion vocalist and main man behind three-decade-strong indie showcase Elvis Monday had already booked clubs including the original Drake Hotel and The Edgewater before coming to amp up the El Mocambo for five years, beginning in 1993.

His job was to fill both floors of the club seven nights per week, an impossible task as owners came and went.

“During the time that I was booking, I worked for five different situations of ownership, including a couple of landlord-in-possessions,” explains New. “What would happen is someone would disappear in the middle of the night; I’d come to work and there would be a padlock on the door. Then the landlord would want to keep it open while he would look for a buyer so he would get in touch with me and say, ‘Just keep going. Business as usual.’

First there was the Tom to whom Jeff Cohen referred.

“He told me his name was Tom Ancaster, but that was just the name he worked under,” offers New, who also says that Ancaster simply “disappeared.” [Note: in a comment posted November 26, 2012, in response to the original publication of this article, Ancaster states that his tenure at the El Mo ran from September 1991 to January 1995. He also disputes Cohen's claim that he was fired. See Ancaster's full comment below.]

Next, New recalls that a group of El Mocambo staff members, including soundman Courtney Ross, ran the club for the better part of a year, from 1995 into 1996, before the landlord repossessed and later sold the club to Lamin Dibba and Jim Eng.

New worked for them all, booking in various weeklies over the years, including his own Elvis Monday; John Borra and Frank Nevada’s acoustic Tune Saloon on Tuesdays; the infamous Tribute Wednesdays; and Sedated Sundays, a psychedelic night helmed by Steve Bromstein of Poppyseed & Love Explosion Orchestra.

“I was trying to do an indie-rock and alternative kind of thing, just because that’s all I knew,” says New of his programming focus. “I didn’t know what cover bands or R&B bands were good, despite the fact that the El Mocambo had a long history of doing those types of things. I just booked it as an extension of what I’d been doing at The Drake and Edgewater, and with my Elvis Mondays at various venues. More or less punk rock and edgy alternative stuff.”

New fondly recalls shows by the likes of Pete Best (The Beatles’ original drummer), Steve Hackett (ex-Genesis), and Alex Chilton. His years of Mondays were also celebrated with the 1994 release of Elvis Mondays Vol. 1 on Kinetic Records. Elvis Monday later returned to The Drake Hotel (post-2004 renovation), where they continue to this day.

By June of 1998, The El Mocambo was once again run down and losing patrons. To reverse its fortunes, owners Lamin Dibba and Jim Eng hired passionate, polarizing ex-Montrealer Dan Burke to book their club.

“When I first came to Toronto in November 1977 and listened to CFNY, Q-107 and CHUM FM, I’d always hear, ‘Tonight, under the Neon Palm!’” Burke begins. “When I started booking the club, it was on the doorstep of the glue factory. No concert promoters put shows there. The Neon Palm was an unlit, rusted eyesore. The plug was pretty close to being pulled on what I thought was a fabulous cultural landmark.”

Never known to shy away from a dingy rock bar or a challenge, Burke dug in. He’d spent the year before booking the short-lived Club Shanghai down the street, and had proved to be prescient in his taste. Burke promoted some of the first Toronto appearances by bands including The White Stripes, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, and Montreal’s Tricky Woo.

“I’d quickly learned that, as a new player in the field, I had to tap into acts, labels, and booking agents that weren’t already sewn up by established competitors,” Burke writes in an email interview. “So that’s what I did—and very deeply so—once I was at The El Mocambo. Whatever was cutting-edge—The Toilet Boys from N.Y.C., stoner rock acts from Man’s Ruin Records, nerd heroes like Wesley Willis, electroclash ensembles like Chicks on Speed, Japan’s Zoobombs and The 5,6,7,8s, Montreal’s The Dears—I got the best of them, and made the El Mocambo an important international club again.”

The Deadly Snakes, The Sadies (sometimes with R&B legend Andre Williams), Danko Jones, Sum 41, and Peaches were among the local favourites booked by Burke. He was also responsible for repeat visits by Japanese noise rockers Zoobombs, who recorded their album, Bomb You Live, at the El Mo in April 2000, and released it on Toronto’s Teenage USA label in 2001.

“Being a show promoter is like gambling,” says Burke. “When you win, sometimes you also get to see a great show. When you lose, sometimes you get to see a great show. It’s the greatest job in the world if you can keep going.”

Who else played/worked there: It would be impossible to list all of the key bands, DJs, bookers, and promoters who played a role in The El Mocambo’s story from 1989-2001. Along with rock and roots music, there were goth and glam shows, hip-hop showcases, and even the occasional rave. Punk band The Sinisters played numerous Halloween shows. Hip-hop supergroup Gravediggaz made its Toronto debut at the El Mo in 1994, while Canadian hip-hop icons including Choclair, Rascalz, and Kardinal Offishall introduced their “Northern Touch” collaboration in the same room a few years later.

Video: Aldo Erdic

The seeds of Hot Stepper Productions’ long-running soul-funk monthly, Bump N’ Hustle, can even be traced to 464 Spadina. BNH mastermind Carlos Mondesir got his event-production career started there in 1995 after soundman Courtney Ross “roped me into” promoting the weekly Soul Sundays.

Working with DJ Curtis Smith and tutored by Ross, Mondesir learned to book bands and produce live shows.

Flyer courtesy of Carlos Mondesir.

“It made me a far more versatile promoter, coming from a DJ-focused club world,” says Mondesir, who brought performers including k-os, Jacksoul, Medeski Martin & Wood, Arcee and Fatski, Blaxam, Jukejoint, and Camille Douglas to the El Mo’s upstairs stage.

“There was an obvious history of soul and blues at the club, but we were into an updated soul style fused with new beats. My first gigs with DJs like Paul E. Lopes, Mike Tull, Jason Palma, Vancouver’s Luke McKeehan, and Atlanta’s DJ Injex were all there, too.”

But there are two DJ-driven events that will forever be synonymous with The El Mocambo in the late 1990s through to 2001: Davy Love’s Blow Up and Will Munro’s Vaseline (later renamed Vazaleen after threats of legal action from the namesake skin-care manufacturer).

DJ/promoter Davy Love’s incredibly popular Saturday weekly was “all about British pop music from the 1960s through 2000s,” says the man himself. ”We played indie, underground, massive sellers, and the way-out stuff, too.”

Davy Love at the El Mo. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

Blow Up ran for more than 10 years at almost as many venues, including two stints at the El Mo. His first was in 1996; he would move the night, which drew more than 500 well-dressed, fiercely loyal followers each week, back to the venue in 1998 because he liked its new owners and vibe.

“Lamin and Jim are two of the nicest, most honest, straight-shooting guys I’ve ever dealt with in clubland,” shares Love, who also encouraged Dan Burke to come work for them.

The crowd at Blow Up. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

“I also loved the venue, and its down-and-dirty history. I saw many shows there when I was a teenager. The El Mo will always be the greatest rock ‘n’ roll landmark in this city; it was the perfect place for Blow Up to thrive. It had just the right amount of seediness and rock ‘n’ roll-ness that appealed to both the pretty, rich kids who were out to rebel against their parents and the downtown working kids/art students who spent all their cash from their minimum-wage jobs on Saturday nights.”

Love was joined by DJs Duncan Rands, Adam Gorley, Johnny Culbert, and the duo of Trevor Young and Darrell Joseph a.k.a Bangers & Mash (“which was which, we never knew”). Bands, including Stars, performed live before the party got underway. Welsh band Super Furry Animals guest DJed, partied through the night (“It went on till the cleaners came in at 10 a.m. the next day”), and later asked Love to remix their 2003 single “Hello Sunshine.”

The celebs who frequented Blow Up were not limited to musicians.

“We had Will Ferrell and Janeane Garofalo dancing and drinking it up one night, and Dave Foley came many times,” spills Love. “So many famous faces were through Blow Up at the El Mo, but it was never a big deal to anyone. They were just having fun like everyone else.”

After all, the main attraction was Blow Up’s music, which blasted out of a powerful system set up for live music.

“The sound system was amazing,” Love extols. “It was a massive stack of speakers that boomed throughout the room. You could actually feel the music hit you, it was so loud.”

Meanwhile, artist Will Munro, along with a wonderfully motley crew of queers, would gather downstairs, monthly on Fridays, for Vaseline.

Dan Burke, who’d been tipped off to Munro by members of The Deadly Snakes (“they were the cornerstone of my local band alliances,” he says), gave Munro the chance to launch his queer-rock extravaganza in January of 2000.

“Will sure knew what he was doing!” exclaims Burke of the DJ/activist who lost his battle with brain cancer in May of 201o. “The first Vaseline drew over 200 people, and it soared from there. It was a fabulous experience working with Will. He was like the United Nations of gay people. What a diverse crowd.”

The Vaseline crew (clockwise from left): Tawny LeSabre, Will Munro, Bennett Jones Philips, Zoe Dodd, and John Caffery. Photo courtesy of Caffery.

“Vaseline was our fantasy event that actually materialized,” says Miss Barbrafisch, the metal-loving DJ who was a Vaseline resident from the start. “It was rockers, punks, metalheads, and misfits, weirdos of all stripes and genders. It was inherently informed by the identity politics of the ’90s, but without the anger. Vaseline was positivity and perversion and great music and great people. Once a month, the outsiders had a clubhouse.

“Vaseline was magical during the El Mo years,” she continues. “The entire historicity of the venue as a distinctly rock venue was a constant reminder that we didn’t need to compromise our musical perspectives.”

“Compromise” is a word that will never be associated with Vaseline.

“Peaches played the first Vaseline ‘Shame’ party,” recalls Kids on TV’s John Caffery, who first graced stages as a go-go dancer there, shaking it up alongside Coco LaCreme at Munro’s behest. “Peaches also played beats when Will pulled a rainbow flag out of his ass.”

That same June 200o Vaseline also featured guest DJ Miss Guy, of Toilet Boys fame. Other early guests included Vaginal Davis, Kembra Pfahler of The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black, and Cherie Currie, a former member of The Runaways who played live in June 2001, backed by a band of Toronto musicians.

Caffery—who was also game to be involved in Vaseline “stage antics like Bobbing for Butt Plugs, Cock Sucking contests, and Drag Queen Roller Derby”—feels passionately about this night that proved so popular it outgrew the El Mo’s small downstairs room, moved upstairs, and would later go on to pack Lee’s Palace.

“Vaseline was transformative for me, and created this massive shift in the way I perceived Toronto nightlife and the queer and trans community,” he says. “I started to think of clubs as a place to be creative, fuck shit up, and challenge public norms rather than simply a place to drink with friends. It also broke down a lot of the silos I saw within the community, with the bears, punks, leather women, and goths all partying together.”

Blow Up, Vaseline, and Dan Burke’s overall programming shifted the public perception of The El Mocambo. It may have been physically worn, but new audiences meant the club was solvent again.

“By 1999, we were making money,” states Burke. “In 2000 and 2001, we were a highly viable enterprise financially.”

Burke—with the help of Love, Munro, William New and countless bands who played benefit shows—even managed to raise the $22,000 required to fix the El Mo’s landmark palm sign in 1999. It was later damaged.

Blow Up marquee at the El Mo. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

What happened to it: As has been well documented, 464 Spadina Ave. was sold to Abbas Jahangiri in 2001. His vision put the brakes on the Burke-led rebirth. Burke went out with a two-floor show on November 4, 2001. He also put up a fight and was famously handcuffed and evicted by police afterwards. Burke has long since booked for The Silver Dollar and, occasionally, at The Velvet Underground.

In his 11 years of owning the El Mo, Jahangiri both nurtured and took away. Though plans to transform the upstairs into a dance studio never fully materialized, his renovations reduced the floor—once The El Mocambo’s heart—to a shadow of its former self.

Still, thanks largely to the booking efforts of Yvonne Matsell—who worked under Jahangiri’s direction for the past decade—the club did stay afloat while featuring shows in the refurbished ground-floor room by the likes of Julie Doiron, Patrick Wolf, Holy Fuck, La Roux, and People Under the Stairs. DJs were also more welcome than ever, with dozens of dance parties bringing house, funk, techno, drum ‘n’ bass and more to the two floors. Jahangiri recently decided to sell the building in order to devote his time to missionary work.

New co-owner Grosso has already made it clear that his El Mocambo will return to the rock and roots-music focus of earlier decades. He has referenced The Rolling Stones repeatedly in interviews while expressing sentiments like “we want to bring great rock ‘n’ roll back to the city.”

Grosso also raised many eyebrows by stating flatly that he won’t feature hip-hop. It’s an odd, and questionable, sentiment at a point when the influence of hip-hop is so pervasive across all contemporary music.

“I think Sam has a preference to roots-geared genres,” offers Matsell by email. “After all, he has made the Cadillac Lounge into a successful venue that gears itself to those tastes. He does know that there is some really good hip-hop out there, so perhaps his comment was more off the cuff. Time will tell.”

Matsell, who continues as the El Mo’s main talent booker, tells me that the current priorities are fixing the neon sign, adding air conditioning and proper heating, renovating the bathrooms, and more.

“The upstairs room will be changed to look like when the El Mocambo was having its heydays in the ’70s.”

The reno process is being documented by posts to The Original El Mocambo Tavern Facebook group, where band listings are also found. The El Mo is currently open for shows Thursday through Saturday. Expect a re-launch party come spring.

Although Matsell emphasizes that “I will still book local and upcoming artists; that has always been a mandate in all the years I have been booking clubs,” there is concern that Grosso may just be dwelling a little too heavily on the El Mo’s past.

“I wish Sam the very best,” offers Jeff Cohen. “His other venues are wonderful, but what that venue needs is to reach out to local promoters and book the best new bands in North America, not talk about who played there some 40 years ago. No venue today can survive without being focused on new music, lest it be an oldies club or a generic folk or blues club.”

“I would tell Sam and his partner to embrace the history of the building, but don’t dwell on it,” echoes Enzo Petrungaro. “Make some of your own!”

“Don’t limit your options—you may not have as many as you’d like,” says Mondesir.

That said, one El Mocambo alumnus is eager to return. Davy Love, now owner of The Bristol Yard restaurant, will host his 18th-annual Blow Up Holiday Party there on Dec. 15.

“I booked it the very same day I heard that Sam bought it,” he says.

Addendum: In September 2014, Grosso announced that the El Mocambo had been sold and that the club would close as a live music venue for good. On November 6, the date that the El Mo had been set to shutter its doors, a surprise announcement was made: investment maverick and Dragons’ Den star Michael Wekerle had purchased the building with the intent to keep the El Mocambo alive.  He plans to renovate, and hire an experienced team to help launch the club’s new chapter.

Thank-you to Miss Barbrafisch, Carlos Mondesir, Dan Burke, Davy Love, Enzo Petrungaro, Jeff Cohen, John Caffery, William New, and Yvonne Matsell for contributing. Thanks also to Amy Hersenhoren, Dave Munro, Jonathan Ramos, and Stuart Berman.

The post Then & Now: The El Mocambo, 1989 – 2001 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.